Authors Corner

Someone once said to me that basic writing is best. No overly descriptive paragraphs. I think my writing is pretty basic, maybe even too basic, I can't be sure. I do know that I don't want dense writing that takes forever to read. So I'm trying to peel back the layers of this story bit by bit.

If that wasn't already stretching my limited abilities, I'm also trying to make a real character. Flaws, flaws, more flaws, a relatable irrationality and maybe a drop of virtue. Hopefully that blend paints the picture I've imagined.

Let me know how it is. I know last chapter I said be gentle, but I've changed my mind. I'd love some comments, especially ones telling me how terribly I'm doing things, because maybe I can use those comments to grow.

Chapter 2 – I shouldn't clam up here.

A man on a lightly forested ridge

I'm pretty sure I was an average salary-man in the existence before this, I get that sort of feeling at least. I can't tell when looking at my hands or feet whether I've changed. I can't remember what I looked like. Was I young? Was I old? Tall? Short? I can't even remember what looks normal. That bastard god was strangely thorough about the mundane details.

So although I don't really know for sure, I'm guessing that with my maxed out body specs that I might just look like an ancient Greek hero. It's softly defined, but I have an eight pack. I'm guessing that's eight more packs than I had before. These new muscles look soft but strong. I want it to be impressive, because it really feels like it should be, but this vagueness in my memory ruins it. I can't solidly compare myself to any modern human, because I can't think of a specific human to compare myself too. I just get vague notions of how things should and shouldn't be.

Anything further than that and I run into a hole in my Swiss cheese memory. I don't even know if I'm Swiss.

Even with this amazing body, I am getting tired. Mentally at least. My muscles are telling me that this marathon of a hike I've been on hasn't been more than a stroll. It should be obvious, but my muscles are lying. It hurts my head to even think about how far I've traveled since I arrived this morning. It's mentally straining and only made worse by the rapidly deteriorating light.

I can tell you're embarrassed from your bright red demeanor, but Ms. Sun, please stop trying to hide behind the horizon. I thought we were friends, there's no need to be bashful. If you go I'll be all alone out here.

The dark is scary.

I'll have to sleep eventually, but I lost that smoke signal a long while back. It was there one minute and gone the next. There is nowhere safe around here, now that it's getting dark there are unfriendly sounds coming every direction. I don't think I'll be able to rest at all in these conditions. Damnit.

I'm especially bitter at the moment because magic would come in handy right now. Fire magic. The kind I've always wanted. I could set ablaze a nice log and be more at ease as I rest my weary head. Well... just one log wouldn't do, I think I'd set a good chunk of forest ablaze around me just to be sure no animal got any hungry ideas.

Wait, don't I sound like a fire-starter right now? I can see the headlines now, Rogue Fire Wizard Causes Mass Extinction With Forest Fire.

Is it odd that I'd be proud of that title? Thinking that I would be called a fire wizard almost makes me drool. I want magic that badly. Just this once I'll admit it's probably good for the local animal populations that I don't have magic at the moment.

Back to my predicament though; If I'm being frank, I don't know where to go.

I think I might be going in circles because everything looks the same. I keep walking up these eerily even ridges. It takes a while because they are so high that they are practically hills. The last few have felt a bit smaller though.

I went up a ridge for the first time trying to get a better view of the smoke that I had saw in the distance, but by the time I had gotten up there, the smoke was gone. Twenty ridges later and I feel like I've accomplished nothing. I haven't even gotten more lost, because I have no idea where I was in the first place.

I'll be the first to confess that my optimism has waned after my run-in with that oversized dog. I'm fairly confident that I can win in a fight against an animal or two, but I'm not equipped to deal with the emotional stress of never seeing a human again in my life.

It's too much to ask for, I don't even know who I am.

I'm feeling more lonely out here by the second.

I had originally planned to wait to choose a name until I found people, but I feel like I'm losing myself. Wait that's not right, I don't have a sense of self in the first place.

I'm getting shivers thinking about it. This is dangerous ground, mentally.

I'll just pick one.

Hmm...

Wilson.

I'll go with Wilson.

I have a strong feeling that the name is ironic, but I can't put my finger on it. Did I know a Wilson in my past?

Oh well, it doesn't matter anyways.

For I am Wilson, Conqueror of Ridges.

Ah, there's the next one. Off I go.

---

Wilson (Conqueror of Ridges)

Near a large body of water

It was nighttime so it took me a while, but I found something other than trees. They are spread pretty thin and I don't see or hear any animals in the vicinity. It's just me out here, poking around. I'm basically a veteran ridge explorer at this point.

A few ridges ago I was groggily looking for anything other than trees and more ridges. I had almost given up, and was seriously considering punching a stupid tree when I saw the following:

Tree. Tree. Tree. Ridge. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. Tree. ….. Tree............

W-water!?

I was so excited that I took off over a few more ridges in a sprint. Most of the aforementioned trees were left in splinters in my wake. Not because I sprinted right through them or anything cool like that. I just punched them all wildly as I went by. Don't blame me, I was in a joyous frenzy and had a grudge to settle.

Ahem.

So here I am standing in pinkish sand. I finally made it down the last ridge with some purplish sawdust in my wake and now I'm beside an ocean. I can tell it's an ocean because I prudently tested the water with my tongue.

Sorry, that's a lie.

I ran into it and started gulping it down quickly, only to instantly bring it back up. It tasted disgusting. Definitely salty though.

Bleh.

I know I'm not what people would call smart, or at least I wasn't before I came here. Actually, if anyone asks I'll forcibly admit that I'm pretty stupid. Right now, I'm a buff maniac who runs around thrashing trees. When I put it like that, it's sounding less and less like I'll become a wizard, I know. If I were to look up my current stats and traits in any RPG, they would say Berserker every time. It's probably what I'm best suited for, excluding the useless bubbles.

That's not how dreams work though. It's a dream of mine because of how I am..err... was. Ugh.

I'm losing myself again. I really shouldn't.

I am the wonderful Wilson, conqueror of ridges and trees.

Ah. After repeating that a couple times I'm doing better already.

The moonlight sure helps. There are two moons floating around above me, there must have been clouds blocking their light up until now. I don't know really how orbits work, but they are circling each other as they move through the sky. Maybe it's magic, maybe it's physics, but who cares? It is an amazing sight.

I'm enjoying myself in the moment, when someone rudely slaps me from behind.

Ow.

The slap only succeeds in jerking my head forward, so I turn to see an enormous walrus angrily barking at me. Where did this fellow come from?

Shoo, go back from where you came. You don't even look or act like a proper walrus. Your tusks are comically long and I've never seen one that looks like it weighs more than an elephant or two like you do. Not to mention you are far too sneaky for your girth.

It's barking again.

No, it really doesn't matter what you're trying to say, I don't speak walrus.

Either I'm too busy gesturing to it to take off or it's just that angry, but I can barely see it move as it's flipper comes forward and slaps me again.

I fly back a few feet this time and land in the surprisingly soft sand. This sassy sea monster packs a mean slap.

I'm not really hurt, just a bit sore. Hurting animals really isn't my thing so I think I can let it go as long as it goes away. Well, those were my thoughts until I see the beautiful beard it's sporting. Not a mustache, a full grown, long and flowing white beard. I knew it wasn't a proper walrus. This walrus is clearly mocking me.

Now I'm mad. It's immature and makes no sense, sure, but that walrus with that beautiful beard is further along the path of being a proper wizard than I am. One beards-width further.

That's a good enough reason to punch it, right?

Well it might not be, but since I've been busy thinking, the jerk is current trying to impale my arm with it's tusks.

I'd be far more concerned currently if it could hit. Now that I'm paying half attention, it isn't too hard to dodge these walrus lunges. This body of mine is frightening. I get that feeling like it's frightening. I'm starting to hope I'm not the baseline warrior in this world, if only for my sanity.

Since he was the one to start it, I think it's fine if I punch him.

I'll do it lightly and maybe he'll flop off home.

I step into range and put a little power into a swing and it connects right in the walrus's stomach.

Then it keeps going through. Then it hits another layer inside and I can't get my arm back.

I'm stuck.

The walrus must be pleased as it starts barking happily. Normally if an object pierced into your body as far as my arm has, I wouldn't imagine it would be pleasant. In this case, however, the size difference makes it a moot point.

It must be a strategy for the creature I now know as a fake-walrus. A predator gets stuck trying to bite or claw you then you just squish them with your fat.

I've guessed this because the silly monster is currently oozing towards me, it's seriously aiming to kill me.

I'm stuck. I can't move, I'm trying to pull my arm out but I can't get a good grip on the soft sand now that the walrus is moving, me along with it.

I've really screwed up.

I've been acting really stupid today. First that fake wolf, now this fake walrus have been trying to legitimately kill me and I've playing around. I knew I should be more cautious, but my situation is honestly more than I can deal with. I swear if I get through this I'll clown around less.

I guess it doesn't matter though. There is nothing left for me to do, because I'm about to die. The walrus has now completely smothered me with it's body.

Rest in peace Wilson. It has been nice sightseeing for a day.

…

…..

…....Or not.

I'm starting to feel considerable pain lying here underneath several tons of walrus, arm still inside it. I'm not paste though, and it doesn't seem like it can completely crush me. I guess I'll die from asphyxiation instead. I can't even move my head to get a breath. It smells like walrus. I hold my breath and wait for the end once again.

...Or not.

I almost want to thank that bastard god for this body. I won't though. It must have been a few minutes already, but I don't really have any urges to breath. I guess I don't need air, which is a discovery I'd be elated about if I wasn't lounging under a sweaty walrus.

What is this stupid walrus doing? If I had to guess, I'd say it's gloating. Maybe even stroking it's beard in glee.

Ah. Maybe it heard me, it's shifting back off the ground.

It must be confused because it's tilting it's head around to get a look at what should be my remains.

I'm waiting motionless. I have a plan.

I know now that I have to use everything I can to kill this thing otherwise it might find a way to end me. I can imagine it flopping me down back on the harder ground instead of the sand and becoming Wilson-paste.

I can't risk it dodging my punch so I came up with a tiny bit of insurance. It will probably not work, but I don't really have a choice.

It's head gets closer to sniff me. I'm getting a bit distracted by it's beard but I'm holding still.

It's face is almost on top of me.

Close enough.

I use an otherwise useless bubble to cover its head and distract it as I simultaneously throw a punch right at it's skull with everything I have. As soon as I used the bubble the walrus froze, so the distraction was definitely a success. As to the result, I'll say that if it's head were a tree, there would be sawdust in the air right now. Since it's not a tree, the result is far more morbid.

Bits of walrus cover the beach.

At this point I finally free myself gruesomely before I get crushed by the corpse, but once I make it a ways away I notice that I can barely stand.

I'm emotionally and mentally drained, so I don't want to admit that the not-magic bubble power came in handy, it's more than I can bear. On top of this, my body hurts solidly throughout and thus has finally decided to call it a day.

I'd like to say I was graceful about finding shelter, but instead I dropped to the warm sand and buried myself. Not needing to breath means I don't need to sleep uncovered. That was the genius idea that went through my brain before passing out.

I'm surprised I survived the night.

---

Wilson, ocean-side. Morning.

I woke up feeling refreshed.

Well I was refreshed after screaming and confusedly escaping from a sand coffin of my own creation.

What can I say, I'm not usually a morning person.

This morning, however, is beautiful, the air is fresh, and I'm happy I'm alive after sleeping in the sand like an idiot. The light of day makes this purple and teal world more inviting.

Looking around, I still see evidence of my near death experience with the fake walrus last night, but alarmingly a substantial amount of the walrus was gone. No sign of where it went.

I take back the inviting part, this place is scary. I need to strike a balance between levity and deadliness if I want to keep my sanity and also survive here. Right now it's time to be serious, I should check out my surroundings.

I walk around the beach to a point jutting out into the water and look out towards the ocean. I think I see bumps on the horizon, but I can't be sure at this distance. I noticed while walking the beach that it curves away consistently all along it's length in both directions. Maybe I'm on an island? I can see a few kilometers in each direction, so it must be a large island if it is one.

Not finding anything exciting out on the water, I decided to turn and look up into the ridges where I came from.

Well, that's peculiar.

From this angle, in the light, I kind of recognize this place.

Sorry, this shape.

It's purple, has even ridges, and is near the water. It has a shape that is nice and round. I'm standing on a beach that is made out of pink sand. Sand that I know from intimate experience is very warm and oddly spongy.

I really can only come to one conclusion from where I'm standing.

It's a clam.

I'm living on the biggest clam in history.

I look back to the ocean again, the bumps on the horizon are a tiny bit larger.

It's moving. It's a moving clam.

It might be that the smoke I saw that day was a boat? A different land mass? Is that why I couldn't find it again, the clam passed it while I was climbing?

...

Why am I here?

I don't have magic and to top it off I get put on an island sized clam.

Wait, don't clams blow bubbles or something? I'm horrified, but come to think of it, am I here in the first place because we have a mutual bubble affinity? I'm so depressed I can't move. Punching trees doesn't even help so I fall to my knees and pulverize the ground for a bit. The ground kicks up salty dust and slate like flakes. Just like a shell.

It's getting worse and worse the more I think about it.

Me and the stupid giant clam are...... a band of bubblers? Bubble buds? Bubble brothers?

I would laugh if I didn't have a hunch that the bastard god was upstairs laughing away at this very moment.

Seriously, it isn't funny. I have an urge to cry again.

…

There is a small crater around me now. If the clam were to ask, I'll not take the blame.

What crater?

I've held it together pretty well, all things considered. I can't see very well because of water in my eyes. It's from the dust that I didn't kick up.

Honest.

I get up and am about to brush myself off when I notice this weird robe isn't dirty at all. After everything that has happened so far it should definitely filthy so I can only conclude that it's magic. I want it to be magic at least.

I feel an excitement rise I haven't felt since I first arrived. Now that I'm thinking clearly again, what's with this? I don't need to breath, and I haven't eaten any food or drank any water since I've been tossed here. I've been too busy running around to notice. I'm not sure what's going on, but my spirits are rising. It's all about finding the little things. Sure, I don't have magic and I live on a clam, and it truly is a horrible thing, but at least I'm not thirsty, starving, or worst of all, dirty.

I need to think positively. If one day I am able to learn magic I don't want people thinking me to be a filthy wizard. That would be unseemly. I'm liking this robe a lot more now.

It's helped me settle down a bit.

I'm not doing badly, I just need to be more cautious and right now I'll take some deep breaths and enjoy the sun. I spot a nicely shaped rock to lay down for a bit and relax.

I'll reflect for a little while I'm at it.

I'm living on my bubble brethren, a massive clam, so I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I firmly believe it will not trouble the great Wilson at all. Tamer of wolves, friend of the sun, purveyor of the moons, wearer of mysterious robes, and conqueror of ridges, dirt, trees and walrus-things. Nothing related to bubbles here, nope.

Wilson.

I guess that's me.

---